"A matter of a guinea, and it will be well paid for," said the rector's
wife.

No one made any rejoinder, but Mr. Carnegie gave the aspiring artist
five guineas (he would not have it as a gift, which little Christie
meant), and plenty of verbal encouragement besides. Lady Latimer further
invited him to paint her little friends, Dora and Dandy. He accepted the
commission, and fulfilled it with effort and painstaking, but not with
such signal success as his portrait of Bessie. That was an inspiration.
The doctor hung up the picture in the dining-room for company every day
in her absence, and promised that it should keep her place for her in
all their hearts and memories until she came home again.

There are not many more events to chronicle until the great event of
Bessie's farewell to Beechhurst. She gave a tea-party to her friends in
the Forest, a picnic tea-party at Great-Ash Ford; and on a fine morning,
when the air blew fresh from the sea, she and her handsome new baggage
were packed, with young Musgrave, into the back seat of the doctor's
chaise, the doctor sitting in front with his man to drive. Their
destination was Hampton, to take the boat for Havre. The man was to
return home with the chaise in the evening. The doctor was going on to
Caen, to deliver his dear little girl safely at school, and Harry was
going with them for a holiday. All the Carnegie children and their
mother, the servants and the house-dog, were out in the road to bid
Bessie a last good-bye; the rector and his wife were watching over the
hedge; and Miss Buff panted up the hill at the last moment, with fat
tears running down her cheeks. She had barely time for a word, Mr.
Carnegie always cutting short leave-takings. Bessie's nose was pink with
tears and her eyes glittered, but she was in good heart. She looked
behind her as long as she could see her mother, and Jack and Willie